We found it. The dog. The dog that sounded angry, hungry, vicious. Its sharp bark had been cracking still evening air and my semblance of calm since we had arrived in Clarksville. Now here it was. Staring me down, snarling, and tearing up the ground that separated us.
Panic. Immediate panic overwhelmed me. I turned and began to run. The desiccated grass felt more slippery than it had before as the cool night air descended around us. My sneakers fought for traction. I seized Emmett’s jacket sleeve and yanked him after me. He yelped something about his arm. He wasn't running fast enough.
My target was the mechanic’s shop. There were tools there, weapons, hiding spots. Most importantly, it was a possible escape from the hell beast pursuing me. I didn't dare look behind me; I feared the ravenous, slobbering maw that was itching to sample my flesh. I felt its eyes boring a hole in my meaty hind end as it closed the distance between. Like a wolf ready to make the kill, I was sure this animal was about to end my days forever.
Somehow, we made it around the corner. I flattened myself against the wall. Emmett was hunched beside me, cradling his arm. I hoisted my wrench as I waited for the animal to barrel around the corner. I imagined how I would smash its head in, how I would keep it from tackling me and goring me before I could get a fair fight.
I waited, not breathing. The wrench felt warm in my grip, my body was afire with adrenaline and the cool wall against my back felt like the only thing keeping me upright as my thoughts spun out of control. Instants stretched into moments, moments into seconds and still the dog did not round the corner. Its bark continued, close, too close, but the beating of its paws no longer sent shock waves of fear up my spine. I dared to peek around the corner. It was there, not more than 20 feet away, barking, still and ceaselessly barking. In the distance a large metal door rattled open and two men stepped out of a warehouse. They strode towards the guard animal, swearing loudly to nobody and nothing in particular.
“Emmett,” I hissed, “We gotta go. Guys comin.”
Emmett moaned and grumbled something softly as he cradled his splinted arm. His bruised and swollen face squinted at me sideways in the falling dusk, and for just a moment I felt sorry for the guy. The collapsing warehouse had done a number on him and my hasty patch job did not seem to be helping. I decided it was my turn to take charge of the situation. I tried to push the dog from my mind, but its endless barking tore at my thoughts. I pushed him away from the corner, along the wall and away from the approaching men.
A small service ladder came down the wall on the other side of the garage door. I gave Emmett a boost and nearly pushed his damaged body up the ladder to the roof. The service door thankfully, mercifully opened to a set of stairs that descended into an office within the old shop. I sat Emmett in a musty old office chair and motioned for him to be quiet. A wedge of light glinted off the old metal bits strew around the shop as two men entered. I crouched behind a barrel as the evening breeze stirred up familiar smells of gasoline and motor oil. For just a moment I thought of my father, the approach of heavy boots brought back moments from my childhood.
“Ain’t nothing around. Tell ya’ that dog just seen a squirrel,” the man called over his shoulder, “Dumb animal.” The man kicked at a tool box unhappily sending a cascade of wrenches sliding from the top of the box. He reached out quickly, clumsily trying to catch them but they slid off his fingertips as he fell against a stack of boxes. The dog started to bark again.
I seized the moment to leap from my cover. I tried to grab him, but he reacted too quickly and squirmed out of my grasp. My mind churned furiously. Important men do not draw guard duty. The barking grated at my nerves. This man was not important. Still the dog barked. I swung my wrench at the man’s head, it connected solidly and he slumped to the ground. That dog, that infernal dog. The second guard stepped into the garage to inspect the noise. I whirled, my wrench poised to strike.
Panic. Immediate panic overwhelmed me. I turned and began to run. The desiccated grass felt more slippery than it had before as the cool night air descended around us. My sneakers fought for traction. I seized Emmett’s jacket sleeve and yanked him after me. He yelped something about his arm. He wasn't running fast enough.
My target was the mechanic’s shop. There were tools there, weapons, hiding spots. Most importantly, it was a possible escape from the hell beast pursuing me. I didn't dare look behind me; I feared the ravenous, slobbering maw that was itching to sample my flesh. I felt its eyes boring a hole in my meaty hind end as it closed the distance between. Like a wolf ready to make the kill, I was sure this animal was about to end my days forever.
Somehow, we made it around the corner. I flattened myself against the wall. Emmett was hunched beside me, cradling his arm. I hoisted my wrench as I waited for the animal to barrel around the corner. I imagined how I would smash its head in, how I would keep it from tackling me and goring me before I could get a fair fight.
I waited, not breathing. The wrench felt warm in my grip, my body was afire with adrenaline and the cool wall against my back felt like the only thing keeping me upright as my thoughts spun out of control. Instants stretched into moments, moments into seconds and still the dog did not round the corner. Its bark continued, close, too close, but the beating of its paws no longer sent shock waves of fear up my spine. I dared to peek around the corner. It was there, not more than 20 feet away, barking, still and ceaselessly barking. In the distance a large metal door rattled open and two men stepped out of a warehouse. They strode towards the guard animal, swearing loudly to nobody and nothing in particular.
“Emmett,” I hissed, “We gotta go. Guys comin.”
Emmett moaned and grumbled something softly as he cradled his splinted arm. His bruised and swollen face squinted at me sideways in the falling dusk, and for just a moment I felt sorry for the guy. The collapsing warehouse had done a number on him and my hasty patch job did not seem to be helping. I decided it was my turn to take charge of the situation. I tried to push the dog from my mind, but its endless barking tore at my thoughts. I pushed him away from the corner, along the wall and away from the approaching men.
A small service ladder came down the wall on the other side of the garage door. I gave Emmett a boost and nearly pushed his damaged body up the ladder to the roof. The service door thankfully, mercifully opened to a set of stairs that descended into an office within the old shop. I sat Emmett in a musty old office chair and motioned for him to be quiet. A wedge of light glinted off the old metal bits strew around the shop as two men entered. I crouched behind a barrel as the evening breeze stirred up familiar smells of gasoline and motor oil. For just a moment I thought of my father, the approach of heavy boots brought back moments from my childhood.
“Ain’t nothing around. Tell ya’ that dog just seen a squirrel,” the man called over his shoulder, “Dumb animal.” The man kicked at a tool box unhappily sending a cascade of wrenches sliding from the top of the box. He reached out quickly, clumsily trying to catch them but they slid off his fingertips as he fell against a stack of boxes. The dog started to bark again.
I seized the moment to leap from my cover. I tried to grab him, but he reacted too quickly and squirmed out of my grasp. My mind churned furiously. Important men do not draw guard duty. The barking grated at my nerves. This man was not important. Still the dog barked. I swung my wrench at the man’s head, it connected solidly and he slumped to the ground. That dog, that infernal dog. The second guard stepped into the garage to inspect the noise. I whirled, my wrench poised to strike.
“Where is Tater?” I snarled.